


Phoenix

by Emlen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Harry Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Friendship, Rough Kissing, Secrets, Sexual Frustration, Top Draco Malfoy, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emlen/pseuds/Emlen
Summary: A wizarding drug, known only as Phoenix, is circulating and causing more than a blissful high.Harry wants to forget the war. Malfoy has the means to make that desire a reality.Yet, everything continues falling around Harry, and perhaps the walking corpses and raving lunatics that are becoming a problem, are mirroring what he will end up as.Harry’s mind isn’t the only thing that needs mending or tending.Malfoy might be more than he appears.Phoenixes rise from their ashes, reborn. The dead rise from their graves, ravenous.AU from Final Battle, 7th year.





	Phoenix

“Working a case, Potter?”

The slow, deliberate drawl was icy. It cut through the darkness with a sharp edge that left Harry feeling colder than the weather and night had managed.

He hadn’t recognised the tall but slender figure of Draco Malfoy from the end of the alleyway, it was only once Harry had drawn nearer, his hair drenched from the onslaught of thrumming rain and windblown into his eyes, that he had noticed the thin smirk and pale eyes that flashed almost silver in the sporadic bursts of lightning.

Malfoy was leaning up against one side of the narrow alleyway, his right shoulder pressed into the jutting stone of the decrepit building and his frame draped with an off-gray trench coat. The thick material dripped a steady stream of rainwater from the hem, sleeves, and lapels. He didn’t appear to notice or care. His gaze was focused entirely on Harry.

A creeping unease settled low down in Harry’s chest, it was tight and heavy and made his lungs feel constricted. As if he had breathed in a lungful of the falling rain. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with the mocking smirk the blond wore so casually, or if he was reacting to the lazy way Malfoy folded his arms across his chest.

A rattle of thunder cut through the silence almost immediately after a dancing spit of lightning brightened the alleyway.

Malfoy’s stance appeared relaxed, but Harry had been trained in reading body language from his brief stint as an Auror. He saw, easily, the subtle signs of tenseness in the line of Malfoy’s shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. There was no doubt that Malfoy was just as surprised to find Harry Potter in the back alley of a notoriously shady neighbourhood, as Harry was to find Draco Malfoy in such an unsightly place.

An arched eyebrow was raised, a silent and obvious question following up the spoken one. _Well, Potter?_

Harry swallowed, his throat was parched, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and made an audible sound when it unstuck as he opened his mouth. He pushed aside his surprise and unease and looked up into the blond’s stoic face. It aggravated Harry to no end that Malfoy was quite a bit taller.

The first words that came to his mind were: _what are you doing here, Malfoy?_

Then, jarringly, Harry took in the scene in more depth. Malfoy and himself were the only people in the alleyway. Alone, save for the scattering rubbish that danced in the gusty wind. With each flash of lightning that lit up their faces and surroundings Harry could see more clearly what he had missed before.

Malfoy was calm despite the tenseness of his body. His lips were thinned but not in spite, rather with some emotion Harry couldn’t fathom. It hadn’t occurred to Harry that Malfoy might have been the one he was directed to.

Yet, somewhere in his gut a confused twinge jolted unpleasantly and he changed his tact and his words within a breath.

“It’s not business. It’s personal.” His voice sounded hoarse, like he’d swallowed a handful of jagged rocks.

Malfoy’s eyebrows twitched upwards as he caught on to the meaning of the words. Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, a feat made difficult by the wet denim.

“Mmh,”

The hum was not what Harry had been expecting. It was soft and melodic. Washed away quickly by the wail of the wind and the hiss of the rain. Contemplative.

Lightning hit the sky once more, flickering pale, white light around the narrow side-street. The gleam in Malfoy’s eyes was similar to the smirk he’d worn a moment before. Far too discomforting for Harry’s liking.

Pursing his lips and watching through the dribbles of rain on his glasses Harry jutted his jaw to one side in exasperation.

Feeling the colour rise in his cheeks he snapped his eyes to the ground and huffed, “Forget it.”

He made to turn and trudge back the way he had come, when a smooth voice, that was effortlessly heard over the rumble of thunder, spoke in a hushed whisper. “I don’t like my time wasted, Potter.”

It wasn’t anything that was startlingly overt, yet somehow it froze up his limbs, and rooted his feet to the ground like he was stuck by glue.

Malfoy hadn’t let his words sound threatening, in fact, they sounded casual, as if he were discussing the weather or telling Harry something of little importance. It was only the curl of his upper lip that gave away his annoyance.

“You want to deal or not?” Malfoy followed up in barely more than a breath of sound.

He unfolded his arms, letting them hang by his sides for a moment before he tucked his right hand into the deep pocket of his coat. Harry’s muscles stiffened as if he’d been hit with Petrificus Totalus, and the constricting sensation in his lungs made a tiny but noticeable hitch of breath leave his lips.

Malfoy flicked his gaze across Harry’s face but his expression remained stoic as he pulled back his hand, holding a small vial between his thumb and forefinger.

The opaque liquid inside was the colour of wet wood or varnish. It made a sinister chill crawl down Harry’s spine slowly. He repressed a shiver and busied himself with pushing his glasses higher onto his nose with his knuckle.

Malfoy took a step forward. To Harry it seemed almost predatory. He wouldn’t allow himself to be intimidated and he raised his eyes to meet with Malfoy’s burning gaze.

There was a moment of absolute silence. The sounds of the weather dropped away from Harry’s ears like he had suddenly gone deaf. His world centered down to the slate-gray stare that watched him as intently as if he were an oddity. But he wasn’t the oddity, Malfoy was.

Why was he dealing drugs? He’d been acquitted of any charges five years ago. As far as Harry knew the youngest Malfoy had secured his freedom and a second chance at life, so...

“Why?” Harry heard his voice break the stillness, it was soft and sudden.

Malfoy heard the uttered question, and he answered with one of his own. Understanding with just the single word Harry had muttered what the dark-haired man was getting at.

“Hm. Why are you the buyer, Potter?” he asked with a patronising quirk of his eyebrows.

Harry hadn’t an answer for the question. At least he didn’t have an answer he was willing to share with the blond. Malfoy continued after a thoughtful pause, obviously not expecting a reply from him.

“We could spend all night asking questions, or we could finalise this meeting as quickly as possible. I do have better things to do than watch you gape like a guppy. As amusing as your naivety is, Potter, I am succumbing to frostbite.”

Harry’s temper reared its ugly head at the quiet words. He clenched his hands into fists by his sides and snapped his jaw closed before it snapped open again, “I’m not naive!”

Malfoy snorted amusement at Harry’s sudden outburst. He studied the vial in his fingers for a second before sighing. When he spoke his words were bored.

“You seem to believe that everything is black or white,” he accused. Harry bristled but before he could interject Malfoy continued. “You forget that there are many shades of gray in the world. Nothing is ever black or white, and you _are_ naive if you think otherwise. Is it completely outlandish that I am a dealer as well as upholding my family name? I dare say the Ministry will be disappointed if they find out their Golden Auror is dabbling with drugs.”

Harry’s faced blanched, but perhaps not for the reason Malfoy thought. In the next instant a crimson flush blazed on his cheeks as he listened to Malfoy’s next words.

“Have you confided in the Mudblood or the Weasel about your bad behaviour?”

It was the breaking point of his resolve when Malfoy added a sneer after his words, as if he felt tainted just by mentioning Harry’s friends. Harry saw red. Without conscious thought he lunged forward, his wand forgotten in his back pocket, but his fist raised to smack the smug look from the blond’s face.

It was sudden, the movement that Malfoy made, he sidestepped the blow before using Harry’s momentum to his advantage and spinning the slighter man around so that his back hit the wall Malfoy had been leaning against a second earlier.

Harry felt his head knock against the protruding stones of the wall, a sharp tingle of pain flared in his skull, but before he could shake it off and lunge again, a sturdy, hard body was pressing Harry’s firmly against the wall, squashing the air from his chest in the process.

Harry glared up into narrowed gray eyes. His nostrils flared with his anger and his cheeks were still pinked from the rush of adrenaline. Despite struggling a moment longer, twisting his pinned wrists in Malfoy’s left hand and bucking his body frantically to dislodge the stronger man, Harry couldn’t throw him off. A noise very much like a growl left his lips when Malfoy’s chest shook against his with silent chuckles.

“Did I hit a nerve, Potter?” he inquired, his voice like molten lava, burning through Harry’s brain until he went lax against the wall and Malfoy’s body. His breath came in sharp, shallow pants. He was sure Malfoy was close enough to feel each exhale against his chin.

“Fuck you, Malfoy.” Harry gritted out through his teeth.

Malfoy leaned in a fraction closer, and Harry had a strong desire to head butt him with everything he had. All thoughts of inflicting pain on the blond git vanished when a warm gust of breath fluttered over Harry’s lips, moist with heat and smelling faintly of expensive wine.

It was such an unsettling sensation to be pinned by his schoolboy rival and feel the intimate brush of his breath against his mouth that it rendered Harry momentarily immobile and mute.

“I strictly top, Potter. Sorry to disappoint.”

Harry felt his brow crinkle with confusion and his mouth twist into a lopsided grimace. He caught the mirth that sparked behind Malfoy’s dilated pupils when lightning brightened them both, it wasn’t mocking so much as dry. But it set off Harry’s temper once more and he brought his head forward with such force that when his forehead collided with Malfoy’s face he was very surprised that the former Slytherin didn’t immediately let go and stumble backward.

Thunder grumbled from above them, growing quiet as the storm was blown out by the winds. Harry felt Malfoy’s nails dig painfully into the thin skin of his wrists that were trapped above his head, and then, much to his dismay, he felt the full length of the man’s body press flush against his, holding him in place as easily as if Harry were a child with no strength.

There was a dark smudge of blood below Malfoy’s nose, and his eyes were burning again.

“Nothing is ever easy with you is it, Potter?” he asked past a sigh.

He shifted his body, bringing his face closer to Harry’s and ducking his head a bit so they were eye to eye. “I told you I don’t like my time wasted. Yet, you still throw a fit at the mention of your blood-traitor friend and his Mudblood.”

Harry gnashed his teeth. Malfoy paid him no mind.

The rain was easing when Malfoy lifted his head away, but still a few droplets that fell from the ends of his pale hair broke against the skin of Harry’s lips. Gray eyes lingered on the glistening pout for a moment and then Harry was being shoved forcefully into the wall as Malfoy let him go.

“Do you want it or not?” Malfoy questioned as he rested against the opposite wall of the alleyway.

Harry swallowed, hating the climbing ball of grief that always rose in his throat at the mention of Ron and Hermione. It hurt to dwell on thoughts of them, hurt even more when Malfoy so callously brought them up.

He knew. He’d _have_ to know. Their deaths were listed in the Daily Prophet alongside hundreds more after the defeat of Voldemort.

The five years after their death had dragged. Time didn’t heal. And Harry never forgot.

Malfoy was watching him with a bored expression, if he noticed Harry’s misty eyes or his pallid complexion he said nothing. Instead he held out the vial.

“You know the price. It’s yours once you pay.” He stated.

Harry’s heart hurt. It ached with the desire to forget past agonies. His limbs felt rubbery and his head was empty of rational thought. He was on autopilot when he took a silent step forward. It was as if his entire being craved the peaceful high that people claimed the drug could induce.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket, wrapping his fingers around the coins that were cold to the touch. He thrust them towards Malfoy as a wailing gust of air battered his hair into his eyes and made Malfoy’s trench coat snap and rustle around his thighs.

Malfoy said nothing as he reached out for the payment. The coins exchanged hands with a clink of finality.

Harry had the inane urge to turn tail and sprint from the gloomy space, to forget about the drug and his grief. But a second after, Malfoy had pocketed the coins the vial of brown was dropped into Harry’s palm.

The glass was warmed from Malfoy’s hold and it felt as if it were burning through the flesh of Harry’s palm. He clenched his hand into a fist, gripping the corked vial so tightly he feared it might shatter.

With rigid movements he mirrored Malfoy’s previous action and pocketed the vial. The wind buffed against his face, sending his unruly hair into an even messier state. Malfoy stared at him, his own hair was tousled, and the collar of his coat was turned up to shield his neck from the cold gust.

“Take it with a drink. Water or whatever.” The blond told Harry. When green eyes narrowed minutely, Malfoy added, “If you take it straight from the vial you’ll overdose. Phoenix is a strong drug; you’ll only need a drop or two to start with. Work up to more, over time.”

If Harry wasn’t aware of Malfoy’s dull tone he might have mistaken the words as concern. He knew better; Malfoy was covering his arse. The last thing he’d need would be a dead Harry Potter that could be linked back to him. Harry nodded shortly, his lips pulled down into a frown.

“Right.” He said, when Malfoy continued to watch him with an unnerving gaze.

Malfoy blinked twice at Harry before he dipped his own head, perhaps satisfied that Harry would heed his advice.

Harry took a shuffling step back and likewise Malfoy advanced forward, his shoes were shiny with rain and as posh as Harry would expect, they were at odds with the drenched coat and windblown hair, but somehow made him look imperious and foreboding.

Harry was painfully aware that he probably resembled a drowned rat compared to Malfoy. His hair was sticking to his cheeks and forehead in wet, dark clumps and his shoes were dirty on the toes and laces.

He straightened his back and met Malfoy’s eyes, wondering absently how such a cold colour could burn so fiercely. His mouth opened a fraction, however Malfoy’s smooth, drawling voice cut off any words he might have uttered.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Potter,” he said with a slow, twisting smirk.

He stepped another pace forward, looked unwaveringly into Harry’s eyes, and then began strolling down the alleyway.

Just before he reached the opening to the empty street he turned and pinned a gaping Harry with that same, disconcerting look from earlier. Harry couldn’t decipher it. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to. “Have a nice night.”

The parting words hung in the alleyway like a dense fog minutes after Malfoy had gone.

Harry could feel the vial in his pocket, sinister and alluring all at once. He raked his fingers through his dripping hair, pushing it off his forehead and blew a breath of air out his lungs so forcefully he felt a rush of dizziness spin lazily around his skull.

A final speck of rain hit the back of his neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine at the icy touch. The wind was still gusty, but the thunder and lightning had blown away along with the rain clouds.

The night was as still as it had yet been, but Harry’s mind was raging like the earlier storm. Spinning in tight circles with thoughts and questions that he couldn’t grasp.

Patting his pocket and feeling the little bump the glass vial made, Harry sucked in a lungful of freezing air. His throat and chest felt numb by the time he started moving. He could have easily apparated to Grimmauld Place, but he felt the need to walk a few blocks before doing so.

Mindlessly he walked in the opposite direction Malfoy had gone, exiting the alleyway, he didn’t catch the pale head of hair that peeked around the far end of the alleyway, nor the gray stare that followed his departure with rapt attention and the very same emotion that had made him so uneasy before.


End file.
